Howdy folks, how's it going?
Hope you all have been keeping safe.
Before we begin, for those who don't follow my other stories or aren't yet aware for some other reason, Through the Eternities now has a page on Tvtropes, so feel free to check it out. :D
As always, shout out to Chaos Productions for his help in building my stories.
And as always, I own neither RWBY nor TES.
Now, on with the show.
"Well, I must admit, Mr. Soverick." Ozpin said in his usual level tone, even as he took a sip of his ever-present mug. "It should come as little surprise given your credentials, but you have a knack for surpassing expectations. Going out on a search for intel on the White Fang, you return with Roman Torchwick. Impressive."
"What can I say? I am used to things not going according to plan and making the best of the mess that ensues." Tristard replied with a shrug. "The merit's hardly all mine, I'd say. With so many of us present to keep things from getting too out of hand, the odds of that bastard scurrying off were rather low."
It was late in the evening, a day after the team's foray into the city. A bothersome time, spent in between reports and questioning of those involved, just now, the rest of team had been dismissed from the professor's office, where the Dragonborn had been asked to stay for a more private discussion.
"Indeed, with Torchwick behind bars, Vale and the dust supply lines to and from the city will have some much-needed breathing room. A job well done, by any metric." The headmaster conceded with some amusement, before his expression fell into pensive seriousness. "Far more worrying than that, though, is the White Fang… and their new interest in you."
Tristard frowned at that. Blake had explained to them what had happened at the meet before her group had been found, with his actions at the debacle in the docks used a propaganda. He hadn't been aware at the time, that he was being filmed, and in all honesty he would not have acted any differently if he did, but still, it seemed that he had earned himself the enmity of the organization far more thoroughly than anticipated…
"…All in a day's work." He replied, sounding particularly unbothered by the thought, which earned him a raised eyebrow from the older man.
"You are being rather blasé about a terrorist group placing a target on your back." Ozpin commented, somewhat curiously.
"People have wanted me dead all my life, Ozpin. This is not the first time, and I really doubt it will be the last." The dragonborn replied, with the same factual certainty one might use to say the sky was blue and grass was green. "By the Nine, it's not even the first time I've been made out to be a monster by those that have made themselves my enemies. With the track record I have back home, I'd say it was only a matter of time until I angered someone around these parts."
"A fair point, Mr. Soverick. Apologies, sometimes I forget just how much… life experience you have compared other students that come through Beacon." Ozpin conceded the point. "As familiar with this particular position as you might be, however, I am afraid it might cause some complications. Besides the obvious, I mean."
"I have nothing but gratitude for the assistance you have been providing, Mr. Soverick." Ozpin said sincerely, before proceeding to explain. "But as you have said, it was bound the catch someone's attention. The White Fang are the most immediately concerning ones, but attention can come from many sources, and I worry that continued displays like these will eventually lead to… questions."
"Ah, I see." The archmage nodded in understanding. "What would make me so interesting that the White Fang marked me for death, uh?"
"Precisely." The headmaster replied. "I have arranged for you to have a presence in our society, Mr. Soverick, as well as Miss Serana and Mr. J'Zargo, and I have done what I can to keep your anonymity with the media and Vale's authorities. But sooner or later, people will wonder about this man who seems to have popped up from out of nowhere, and how exactly does his power work. Our excuses and explanations should hold when it comes to the general populace, but should certain parties pry deeper…"
"You're worried at the possibility that the existence of magic will be revealed. And that is not even mentioning the fact that I and the others are not of this world, which is a truth so outlandish most people will think me mad rather than acknowledge it." The dragonborn finished for him, his expression now as pensive as the headmaster's. "Come to think of it, why did you believe me so readily on this? In all honesty, telling the truth was, in hindsight, a bit foolish on my part, even if it didn't feel like I had many options."
"A fair question, and indeed one with a fairly simple answer." Ozpin replied, the smile on his face showing a kind of amusement usually reserved for those privy to things others weren't. "Being one of the few people in Remnant aware of the existence of magic, I recognized your abilities for what they were. From there, given the current state of magic in this world, and what magic can accomplish, you being a traveler from another became not just the possible, but even the likely explanation. And from there, you have done nothing to make me inclined to disbelieve you, quite the opposite in fact."
"Hhm, I see." Tristard replied neutrally. It was clear to him that there was more to it than that, but Ozpin had so far been a reasonable sort, so he was willing to leave it the matter be, at least for now. "But, back to the matter at hand, I wish I could say I don't see an issue magic being known, but given how it tends to be distrusted or misused even in my own world, I can understand why that would be a concern. The question then becomes, what can be done about it?"
"As of right now? I have done pretty much all I can." The headmaster said, heaving a small sigh as he realized that he had run out of whatever was in that mug he was so fond of, then getting up from his seat and walking over to the massive window, staring out into the horizon. "The media know Beacon had a part in Torchwick's arrest, as do the police department, but as of now they don't know exactly who or how, respectively. I had to smooth over a few details such as the legality of your actions, but that should be that for the time being."
Even with the amount of time he'd had to get accustomed to how things worked on Remnant, how much more easily the dissemination of information was done through a variety of different ways was still a mind-boggling thing to the dragonborn. Things like this… internet were treated so mundanely for how utterly staggering developments they actually were. Part of him was glad that Hermaeus Mora had no hold on this realm, another found the thought of the Daedric Prince's reaction to such a priceless wealth of knowledge being mostly relegated to useless gossip and inane stupidity mildly amusing. Still, that ease of access also meant that information was all that much easier to manipulate, so it was not like he didn't understand the headmaster's position.
"And so I take it that on my end I should refrain from drawing too much more attention?" He inquired, more for confirmation than anything, as he moved to stand at the man's side.
"Essentially, yes. By no means am I saying you should limit yourself when lives are on the line, Mr, Soverick, but it would perhaps behove us to let the heat die down for a bit, such as it were." Ozpin nodded, pleased with that they were on the same page. "Fortunately, the next few days should allow for an opportunity to do just that. I understand that your team volunteered to help in managing the upcoming dance, correct?"
"Entirely the girls' idea, I assure you." Tristard replied with a chuckle. "What can I say? The debacle at Ashenwood was a good enough bonding experience that when Coco came asking for our help organizing the thing, they just couldn't say no."
"Such tends to be the case for teams of huntsmen and huntresses that survive dangerous situations together. All the same, it is a fairly mundane thing to handle, and the assigned missions that follow will happen outside the city, which makes me think there's little cause for concern." The headmaster said, glancing at the dragonborn from the corner of his eye with a smirk of dry amusement. "If nothing else, Mr. Soverick, I do hope you'll be able to enjoy yourself at the dance. A chance to relax and have fun is always a good thing."
"Can't say I've ever had any good experiences with these sorts of events." Tristard replied with a shrug. "Mostly because the last few times I was crashing them to infiltrate the hosts or because some assassin tried to take a shot at me or because mingling with nobles and royalty is murder on my patience, but still."
"…I see." Came the uncertain reply, after a few seconds of processing the casual admission. "All the more reason to enjoy yourself in this occasion. I understand you've led an eventful life, Mr. Soverick, but you are, in fact, not that much older than my other students. Forgive me if it sounds presumptuous, but I believe you deserve a chance to enjoy your youth. I should imagine someone will be quite willing to help."
"How so?" The dragonborn inquired, for once in the conversation feeling kind of lost. The headmaster, for his part, chuckled, as if amused by a joke only he understood.
"Oh, nothing you need concern yourself with." He replied, quite evasively. "Moving on to the other subject I wished to ask about, have you and your friends made any progress regarding Amber's condition?"
"…It is slow going, that much I will admit." The archmage replied, putting aside his confusion to focus on this more serious matter. "The wound in her soul is… quite unlike anything we have seen. There are theories and ideas involving the mutilation of the soul that we are aware of, but nothing that we've seen put into practice, and certainly not anything to this degree. Not helping matters is our limited understanding of aura. But we may have a way to change that."
"After witnessing the advantages it can bring during the debacle with Torchwick, J'Zargo has expressed an interest in unlocking his." The dragonborn explained, earning him the older man's undivided attention.
"Indeed? Well, that can certainly be arranged. And you're certain that this is something that should be done just by him?"
"Both Serana and I have reasons to not wish to tamper with our souls in such a manner, but J'Zargo has no such limitations, and nothing we've seen indicates the fact he's not human would be an issue in any way." The dragonborn stated, with a long-suffering expression. "Plus it is far easier to face an entire army single-handedly than to dissuade that fool once he sets his mind to something. I've learned long ago to just got with it."
"…Fair enough." The headmaster replied, checking on his watch. "I have a meeting shortly, so I'd ask that you go to your team for now, Mr. Soverick. If I had to guess, I'd say you'll have some arrangements to prepare for the dance, and you do still have some classes to attend today. We can take care of Mr. J'zargo's wish later tonight."
"Aye, I'll let him know." The archmage agreed, sparing one last look over the landscape before turning to make for the elevator. "By your leave then, Ozpin."
A few moments later, Ozpin was once again alone in the room, an inscrutable gaze going from the horizon down to the tiny figures walking around the courtyard bellow. Not long after, he saw the dragonborn meeting up with his team, at this height distinguished only by how color coded they were.
"Ah, youth." He breathed amusedly, although the amusement was quick to turn somber. "I do so hope they can all enjoy it a while longer…"
Just as Ozpin had said, there was still a class to be had that day. More specifically, combat class. As Tristard glanced around from where he was sitting with his team, plus J'zargo, Serana and Tawny, who were just there to spectate (as it turned out these classes were open audience, a practice much like what they did for sorcerous duels back in Winterhold), it was easy to tell that there were a lot more spectators than usual. The influx of students for the festival was readily apparent.
Feeling that he was being watched, a feeling well honed by a lifetime of experience, made the breton look further away than the immediate vicinity, looking for… Ah.
From another section of the amphitheatre, a familiar pair of red eyes was scowling at him, eyes that belonged to the fair lady thief, and eyes that spoke of something of a grudge over the advice he had so charitably sought to impart to a would-be colleague. Truly, no good deed goes unpunished.
He put on his most purposedly, exaggeratedly polite smile, greeting her with a slight wave, getting only a deepening of the scowl for his troubles. Truly, such a shame.
"Well, then," Goodwitch said with admirable professionalism as team CRDL were dragging themselves off the stage, bruised in both body and pride. "With that, it seems like we still have time for one final match. Any volunteers?"
"I'll go." The lady thief swiftly volunteered, and even more swiftly rising from her seat and making for the stage. It did not escape Tristard's notice that her gray-haired companion looked like he'd been about to raise a hand himself, looking torn between being amused by her irritation and annoyed at being beaten to the punch.
"Hhhmm, very well, then, Ms. Sustrai." Goodwitch hummed after a quickly check of her scroll, finally giving him a name to go with the face. "Is there anyone in particular you would like to face?"
"Yeah. Him." Sustrai say, an accusatory finger pointed right at him. A lot of the Beacon students present looked at her like she was insane, but by the way she was again scowling at him, she didn't seem to notice.
"Yeeesh." J'Zargo muttered, clearly not missing the hostility. "What did you do to anger the girl so?"
Going by the way the girls all looked at him with varying degrees of curiosity and/or mild concern, it was a question they all shared.
"She tried to pickpocket me." The dragonborn answered, as if it explained everything.
"Ah," The disguised khajiit replied, because for him and Serana, who merely shook her head in amusement, it actually did. "The more fool her then."
"Mr. Soverick." Goodwitch called out, before the others got the chance to ask for elaboration. "Do you feel up for a spar?"
"Aye, Professor." Tristard replied with a chuckle as he got up from his seat, casually picking up Gurahyol, resting the axe against his shoulder and wearing his mask as he went. "Far be it from me to deny a challenge."
The very casual manner in which he approached the stage and took his place standing before the green-haired girl, looking quite thoroughly unruffled, and even amused, by her demand for a fight and her obvious annoyance at him just seemed to incense her all the more. In all honesty, that was exactly why he kept doing it.
As Goodwitch inquired whether the two combatants were ready, Sustrai's reply was reaching for her weapons, a pair of sickle guns, because of course they were. Allowing some of the levity to leave his posture, the archmage let his axe fall slowly to his side as he squared his shoulders, ready for battle.
At the professor's call, the standoff remained unbroken, both opponents looking each other over, sizing each other up, seeking any openings.
It was the girl who moved first, raising her weapons and opening fire. The shots pinged harmlessly off the shimmering barrier that the dragonborn had raised just in time, but they had just been a distraction as she charged in, swinging the sickles straight at his neck.
They struck daedric steel as Gurahyol rose to intercept, a deadlock that was swiftly broken as the axe's blade ignited in flames, the sudden heat making the wide-eyed girl step back in surprise.
Tristard took the chance to surge forward, swinging a descending arc that was dodged with quite a lean backwards. The girl was flexible, which given what he'd seen so far in this world did not come across as a surprise. In fact, he swiftly stepped back in turn to avoid the incoming kick as she summersaulted, increasing the distance between them.
The girl seemed to consider her options as she landed, and Tristard almost blinked. Gone was the annoyance and simmering frustration born of prior humiliation, the expression on her face was one of intense focus, a sort of calculating professionalism that told the dragonborn he should not underestimate her.
So thinking, his free hand burst into flame, and the ground beneath the girl begun glowing. Sustrai barely had the time to jump out of the way as the flame trap burst beneath her feet. In the moments she was airborne, he immediately followed up with a fireball while it would be near impossible to avoid it.
Seeing the fiery projectile swift approaching, the girl surprised him by swinging one of her sickles to the side, the curving blade shooting out at the end of a chain and stabbing into the ground. With a heave, she pulled herself out of the way, rolling as she hit the ground and the moment she was on her feet she swung the other sickle at him, the blade once again covering the distance at the end of the swinging chain aiming straight for his head.
The archmage was quick to intercept the attack with his own weapon, the chain wrapping around Gurahyol's shaft. Sustrai made to pull, clearly intending to disarm him, but Tristard held fast, both hands gripping tightly and feet planted, not budging from his place.
The impromptu tug of war felt to the two opponents like it went on for far longer than the few seconds it actually did. Swiftly realizing neither would give, the dragonborn shocked the girl, first by letting go of his weapon to grab hold of her chain, and then quite literally when he sent a shock spell surging through.
Sustrai cried out in surprised pain at the unexpected move, the current strong enough to prevent her from letting go of her own weapon, and even making her aura flare up around her to mitigate the worst of electricity. Bearing through it surprisingly well, however, the girl strained to raise her other weapon and open fire, forcing the dragonborn to cease his assault to once again shield himself.
"You got a lot of cheap tricks." She commented sourly, glaring at him like he had done her a personal insult.
"I believe in being prepared for all eventualities." He replied with the usual air of jovial politeness, before his posture became oddly contrite. "Although, I will apologize for the hair, for what is worth. Put a little too much into it."
The girl blinked at that, clearly confused by the unexpected reply, a confusion that only increased when she noticed the snickering and giggling that was going on in the audience, even her own partner laughing uproariously…
…Then his words actually registered, and with wide eyes she reached a hand up to the top of her head. Her minty green fringe was now a fritzed-out mess, strands standing on end due to the electric current…
With a twitching eye and a feral growl, the enraged girl apparently threw all caution to the wind and charged straight at the dragonborn. Such was the fury on display, that for a split-second, Tristard was caught off-guard, barely able to call Gurahyol back into his hand by telekinesis in time to block the first strike, which was immediately followed by another, and another, and yet another, in an angry flurry of slashing blades that actually put him on the defensive, slowly forcing him to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to gain some distance from the onslaught.
And as he parried, blocked, dodged and weaved his way around her assault, something became readily apparent to Tristard. A lifetime of battle made it easy for him to see that the girl didn't fight like any of the other students. Even through her slighted fury, every blow was precise, aiming at a would-be vital spot with unerring accuracy, and a ruthlessness far beyond what simple sparring warranted. This spoke of a person that was used to ending a fight as swiftly and decisively as possible, without overmuch caring if the opponent survived. Definitely not the mentality of the average student, there was more to the pickpocket than met the eye…
Narrowly avoiding yet another swipe straight at his face, seeing that the girl wasn't going to give him the opening to back away or retaliate, he decided to take the decision out of her hands.
The wave of unrelenting force slammed straight into the girl, sending her flying across the stage why a surprised yelp, but not disorienting her enough that she wasn't able to roll with the momentum when she hit the ground, eventually getting up on one knee, staring up at him with red eyes that, while wide in surprise, had a calculating edge to them. The eyes of a thief sizing up her mark, weighing the odds…
The dragonborn, for his part, once again held his weapon with both hands, the axe's edge igniting in flames as he took a stance.
"…Alright, alright, fine." The girl suddenly said as she apparently deflated, shaking her head with a resigned sigh as she got up and addressed the supervising teacher. "I give up."
…Tristard had to admit, he did not expect that.
"Very well then, the win by forfeit goes to Mr. Soverick." Goodwitch called the match, to some clapping and murmurs from the audience. "In the future, Miss Sustrai, I'd advise that you learn to keep your temper in check during a fight."
"Yes, ma'am." The girl replied politely, in a chastised tone. One that, the dragonborn couldn't help but notice, seemed oddly practiced.
"Well, then, that would conclude today's lesson, students. You are free to go about your day, but remember to keep curfew hours in mind." The professor dismissed the class, the people in the audience needing little more prompt to start getting up and leaving in packs and groups, chattering animatedly as they went.
Tristard turned to glance his opponent, seeing that girl still looking at him, still with that calculating gaze. Seeing no reason to be contrary, he gave her a respectful nod. The girl, for her part, simply scoffed at the gesture, and swiftly walked away without a word, swiftly moving towards her still chuckling teammate, and apparently punching him in the arm when he said something the dragonborn couldn't pick up on.
Tristard had seen eyes like those before. Eyes that looked at the world as if everything was either a target or a threat…
It was a familiar sight to the dragonborn. After all, it should not be too difficult for one former street rat to recognize another. Time would tell just how well the girl left that past behind…
"That bastard…" Emerald grumbled, back in the privacy of their room, even has she took a brush to her spiked out hair in an attempt to tame it again. "Who does he think he is?"
"Well, right now, I'd say he's the guy who's two for two against you." Mercury ever so unhelpfully replied, a smug grin on his face that she would very much like to wipe off. "Really losing your touch there, Em."
"Screw you, you know if I could have given it my all in that fight, I would have-"
"Potentially given away your abilities, which would have jeopardized the plan." Cinder interrupted coolly from where she sat, her tone calm but with that hint of warning that the duo was very familiar with by know. "You know why that simply would not do, Emerald."
"Y-yes, ma'am. My apologies." The green-haired girl replied, deflating at the clear scolding.
"And even if you were to use you semblance on him, we have no certainties that it would work. Certainly didn't for Torchwick's little sidekick." Their leader then continued, the edge in her voice growing a bit more noticeable as she scowled, making the duo dearly wish they could back away slowly. "That fool got himself caught before schedule, and took our final "teammate" with him, severely hampering my plans. While I try to figure out how to salvage this, we absolutely cannot draw any needless attention. And that means you two need to behave."
"Yes, ma'am." The two underlings replied in perfect unison, not even acknowledging the fact. They'd learned by know their boss was ever at her worst when things didn't go according to plan, and all that it was best for their health not to draw her attention…
"It is obvious by now that Ozpin has gathered some new pawns." The black-haired woman continued without a care for them, checking through the files in her hands. "And ones that have proven a consistent thorn on my side, at that. A Schnee, Adam's little runaway pet, the girl that nearly caught Torchwick recently, the girl that destroyed a Paladin when they actually did it, and this… Soverick."
She frowned, as she looked at the picture of the man who somehow could do the impossible. She'd searched long and hard for any information on him, even to her enormous chagrin asking that pompous fool Watts to hack into databases across the world, to no avail. Besides the documents marking him as a student of Beacon that conveniently marked him as a traveler as well, no doubt provided by Ozpin, the man was a ghost, like he had one day simply just popped into being…
Who was he? Where had he come from? How was he able to wield the sort of power that only the Maidens should possess? And how did Ozpin manage to keep such an asset secret for so long?
Too many questions, and not nearly enough answers. A good environment for her plan to proceed smoothly this did not make.
"You've both been mingling with the other students." She said more than asked, because she had after all ordered them to. "What did you learn about these people?"
School gossip was hardly a trustworthy source of intel, but maybe there'd be a few kernels of truth to be found amidst all the inane chatter of teenagers.
"Well," Mercury went first, although for once Emerald wasn't all that annoyed he beat her to the punch. "They've got a reputation of being among the best students of the first year, so there's a lot of people talking about them, but it's all mostly hearsay and rumors. Their performances at initiation seem to get more badass with each person that told me about them, and I'm guessing we're not gonna find out how true that is until you "get access". Soverick did cause quite a stir when he apparently broke Nikos' streak on their first spar, though."
"There's also a lot of rumors about their stunt at the docks and about some mission they've had in some backwater area of the Kingdom, but all very speculative. Beacon's been keeping a tight lid on their activities." Emerald picked up, looking rather frustrated and annoyed at the lack of anything concrete. "Of Soverick himself, nobody has a clue, other than he's from outside the Kingdoms and has a bullshit strong Semblance. Of his faunus friend that helped bust Torchwick, we have even less. He and some other woman were recently hired as staff for the school's library and seem to be Soverick's friends, but that's all that anyone knows."
"I honestly don't get how nobody is questioning that one." The grey-haired boy mused. "I mean, not even getting into the whole two animal traits thing, don't lynxes have short tails? How does that work?"
"That's the thing that's causing you issues out of all of this?" Emerald questioned in the tone of someone who did not expect anything different but was still rather exasperated by it. "How are you so sure he's even supposed to be a lynx?"
"I mean, the ears looked pretty lynx-like to me. You never watch a documentary? You should give it a try, it's always good to learn new stuff."
"Enough, you two." Cinder stated calmly, quickly stopping the duo's bickering. But they did raise a point, about the newest piece of the puzzle.
One mystery man wielding a power he by no rights should even be aware existed was confusing enough, two just straight up felt like someone was mocking her, and if the pattern held, the woman was probably like them. Three people capable of magic, and quite clearly in Ozpin's corner.
She briefly wondered if, after claiming her prize from what was left of the Fall Maiden, she would be able to do the same for these unpredictable variants. It was far from an unappealing thought, but she lacked all the information to decide whether it was viable yet. For now…
"I suppose we will have to be cautious for the time being." The black-haired woman eventually said, her amber eyes almost seeming to glow in the fading light of day. "Observe without drawing attention. The dance should help put some things into context. And with some luck, the White Fang will deal with them for us in the upcoming missions."
How easy it had been, to convince those short-sighted fools that he was an enemy to look out for. Anger could be useful, but the White Fang under Adam was so blinded by it that it made them easy to control, which honestly suited her just fine.
One thing Cinder was sure of. She had worked hard to claim her reward, and these unknown variables were not going to get in her way.
Later in the evening, in the chamber vault hidden deep beneath the academy, the trio from another world waited, one noticeable more eagerly than the other two.
"How much longer will we have to wait?" J'Zargo grumbled, forgoing the human glamour, his tail fidgeting restlessly as he kept tapping a foot to the ground. "J'zargo is growing bored."
"J'Zargo gets bored all the time." Serana commented without a care.
"Aye, it's nothing new." Tristard immediately joined in.
"J'Zargo feels cowardly ganged up on." The khajiit grumbled drily, throwing his companions an utterly unimpressed look.
"Well, J'Zargo should stop being a big baby throwing a tantrum because he's not getting his new toy fast enough." The vampire once again retorted equally as drily. "And on that note, are you truly certain you with to go through with this?"
"Of course." J'Zargo replied, without a shred of hesitation. "You've seen what the people of this place can do with this power. And we need to understand it better to know how best to help the girl in the coffin, yes? Sounds like a win-win to J'Zargo."
"And you wonder why you were banned from research and development." The archmage commented with a wit as dry as the sands of the khajiit's homeland.
"Bah, you blow up a laboratory once and nobody let's you forget it." Was the grumbled reply. "It's not like you can talk, what with your track record at alchemy."
"Aye, but I was working with materials I was warned were combustible. You somehow made an explosion out of trying to create a spell meant for copying books."
Whatever else the feline man was going to say was interrupted by the humming sound the approaching elevator. With a ping, out into the massive room came Ozpin.
"My apologies for the delay." The headmaster said politely as he approached. "The meeting took a bit longer than I would've liked."
"Trouble?" Tristard couldn't help but inquire curiously.
"Just some discussion regarding the custody of Torchwick and his accomplice." Here the older man allowed himself to frown annoyedly for a moment. "Honestly, sometimes I feel people count on me to handle matters that should be well beyond my purview as a Headmaster."
"By the Nine, do I know what that feels like." The dragonborn replied wearily, giving the headmaster a commiserating nod.
"Quite so. At any rate, I understand that Mr. J'Zargo intends to awaken his aura, yes?" The headmaster asked, turning towards the catman with an inquiring look.
"Indeed I am." J'Zargo confirmed, his entire posture going ramrod straight in sheer anticipation. "So, how will this work? Do we need a ritual circle? Some kind of offering?"
"Oh, nothing quite so grandiose, I assure you." Ozpin replied with a chuckle as he approached the khajiit, and simply place a hand upon his shoulder.
It did not escape Tristard's notice that, as silence fell upon the chamber, something changed in the headmaster's demeanour. A sense of… agelessness about the man, like something that had been hidden for so long suddenly peeking through the veil…
"For it is through hope, that we endure." He spoke, the words calm, serene, and yet… heavy. "With it, we become the ones who bear the burdens of time and grief, to see our solemn duty through. Walking in eternity and longing for respite, I unshackle your soul, and by my hand, set thee free."
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then both Tristard and Serana felt a sudden surge in the magicka.
The very next second, the faint green glow that permeated the chamber was drowned out by the pale blue light that suddenly surrounded J'Zargo, making the Khajiit glow almost like a reflection of the moon.
"Woah." He commented in his ever so blasé tone, staring down at himself as a lattice of this blue energy manifested all around him. "This feels… warm. Like home… Weird, but good."
"What one feels when their aura is awakened varies and tends to be unique to each individual." Ozpin helpfully supplied as he observed, letting go of the khajiit's shoulder. "Your reserves are rather… intense, Mr. J'Zargo."
Considering the man's words, J'Zargo raised a hand, briefly staring at it in consideration. Then, in a practiced move, he flicked it against the far wall as he called upon the magicka, intending to cast a simple fire ball.
Instead, an orb of searing flames the size of a man's torso shot through the air like a speeding arrow, detonating with a sizeable shockwave and leaving behind a large, charred crater.
"…Oh yes." J'Zargo said, a very wide, predatory grin on his face. "J'Zargo can get used to this…"
Poor Remnant. Just what has been unleashed upon it?
Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, be sure to let me know if you did.
So next up on the rotation, we have Ere We Go, Pluz Ultra!, so look forward to that.
Cya all on the next one, take care and stay safe.